


Dismantled

by Lastasalways (Xerox)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/U, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-09
Updated: 2006-09-09
Packaged: 2019-03-14 00:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerox/pseuds/Lastasalways
Summary: Dean never got Sam from college, but now that John is dead he has come to tell him about the funeral.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam smiled softly as he curled up next to Jess, “sorry I’m so late.” He mumbled against her neck, kissing it softly as he did so, just letting the smell of her shampoo and skin drown out what had happened earlier in the day.

“You just missed my parents,” she mumbled, scooting closer to Sam. “They would have just bugged you about meeting your family again. They want to know what I’m getting into, you know, being their baby girl and all.”

Sam sighed, turning over onto his back. This was a problem they always faced. Either it was Jess wanting to know about his past, his family, about anything that had made him the man he was today, or it was her family wanting to know the same things. Mostly with Jess it ended up fine, a few huffed words and then a vague explanation and she was happy until the next time something came up, especially after he had proposed to her. She had made him promise that he would let her into those secrets, that she would at least have a vague idea of his origins. With her family though, half answers weren’t enough. They wanted it all, which was something Sam couldn’t give them without painting his family out as lunatics. And that just wasn’t going to fly, for several reasons. “Did you explain to them how it is with my family?” he asked as she turned over and wrapped her arms around him.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I told them that you were estranged from them since you came to college and that you don’t even know how to get in touch with them anymore. They’d still bug you though.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Rubbing her arms slightly because she was the one who had to deal with them, he could just come up with some excuse to escape and deal with Jess laughing at him later. She, on the other hand, had to deal with their interrogations or else.

“Maybe we can hire a private detective or something so you can at least invite them to the wedding,” she offered, her hand rubbing his lower stomach slightly. She wouldn’t push it, Sam knew that, but he also knew that she wanted to meet his brother and father. He also knew that it hurt her because she knew that Sam longed so much to have them at their wedding as well.

Sam snorted slightly, shaking his head though. “They’d probably kill me for a stunt like that.”

“You make it sound like they’re mobsters or something sometimes, Sam,” she said softly, her eyebrows raised with amusement.

“They’re not.” He mumbled softly, closing his eyes knowing he should explain just so she didn’t start really thinking they were involved in the mob. “They’re not…” he sighed, having trouble trying to figure out how to say what they did without really saying it. “They help people and if someone was looking for them it could mess up what they do.”

“Oh…” she said softly. “So, they’re like private investigators?” she asked innocently.

“Yeah… yeah they are,” he answered with a small smile, he had never really thought about it like that. Private investigators, and really they kind of were. If he could figure out where the hell his father and brother were he would have to tell them that. “If they got a license it would all be on the right track… and get paid for it.” He added as an after thought, eyes crinkling as he thought about it some more.

“How do they live?’ she asked a little confused, happy that she was learning so much, but still confused.

He bit his lip, remembering his promise to her that he would let her know about his past but torn between painting them out to be criminals… as bad. “Unconventionally,” he mumbled after a moment of careful thought. “Not exactly legally, but it doesn’t really hurt anyone… not really. When we were kids… dad would get odd jobs when he could. Dean would too, when we got older and they figured it was safe enough to leave me alone. I don’t really know how my dad got a lot of the money back then actually,.” He admitted softly, just realizing that he didn’t, but smiling slightly when he thought of his brother. “Dean started hustling pool and stuff later though when we were teenagers,” he shrugged softly not willing to tell her about the credit card fraud that Dean had started perfecting about when he had turned fifteen. That didn’t really matter, it was a minor detail and Jess would never care about it. Though he was pretty sure if he told her that he knew some of the best ways to do it she’d be more than a little tempted to try it out. The thought put a small smile on his face as he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She would just want to see if she could get the card probably, just to be tickled by the fact she could.

“Good night,” he whispered softly and she rolled her eyes a bit but she ended up snuggling up to him regardless.

-

Sam laughed at the joke Jack had told them, his hands wrapped around Jess. “Dude, c’mon you can come up with something better than that.” He egged on, a smirk on his face.

“Shut up, Sam,” Jack laughed, throwing an empty cup at him causing Jess to squeak as they both tried to dodge out of its way. Failing to do so and the plastic cup hitting Jess in the chest with a quiet slapping noise.

“Nice aim,” Jess said dryly in Jack’s direction, who just grinned and wrapped his arms around his own girlfriend, who was crammed onto the chair opposite of the couch Sam and Jess were on.

“Marcy likes my aim,” he replied cockily only to oomph when he got an elbow in the stomach from her, who didn’t look too happy with Jack’s comment.

“I’m not sure I even get it, but you’re a damn perv,” Marcy chastised right before the door bell rang, all of them turning to look at the front door in confusion. No one should be showing up tonight, and it was too late for mistaken deliveries as well.

“I’ll get it,” Sam laughed anyways, shaking his head as he detangled himself from Jess. Stretching to pop his back before walking toward the door.

“If it’s that Jehovah’s Witness again tell him that we’re in the middle of a complex ritual and to come back later.” Jess said as she situated herself on the couch, rolling her eyes a bit.

“And that it consists of naked ladies danc… ow! C’mon Marcy,” Jack called to him interrupted by what was probably another elbow.

Sam shook his head, chuckling as he opened the door. “You two behave,” he called back before he turned to the door where his face dropped instantly. “Dean?” he asked after a moment of stunned silence.

There his brother stood, leaning against his door frame, hands stuffed in his pockets and looking down at his feet. “Bad time?” Dean asked his voice cracking a bit as he looked up at Sam, letting him see the paleness in Dean’s complexion, how sick and tired he looked.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Sam asked instantly, reaching out to make sure Dean was alive more so than to help him in case he fell or anything else along those lines. It had been so long since he had last seen his brother, he wasn’t even sure if this was real, that it wouldn’t disappear the minute he did touch Dean. He was real though, firm and warm to the touch, not a ghost or the living dead.

“Peachy,” Dean mumbled. “I need to talk to you.” He said his tone serious and making no room for pleasantries or jokes, or mothering.

“Yeah, yeah, come in,” he said because Dean looked about ready to collapse standing there and now that he was sure that his brother was really here; it was really time to make sure he didn’t die anytime in the near future. “J-just let me get rid of my friends.” He said the moment the door closed behind Dean, looking around at his friends who were watching him curiously.

“I’ll come back later.” Dean said quickly, looking as if he was terrified and that caused Sam to pause for just a moment. His brother never used the deer caught in headlights look, it made Sam imagine a thousand possible reasons why he did now. None of them set right with Sam though and he quickly gathered his wits and shook his head.

“No, I’m sure it’s important, it’ll only take a minute. Can you make yourself some coffee?” he asked, waiting for Dean to nod before telling him where the kitchen and coffee was. He had a feeling this really was important for more reasons than that Dean was actually here. There was something about how Dean was holding himself that slammed that worry button in his brain repeatedly but he couldn’t quiet figure it out. It had been too long away from Dean to be able to.

“Who was that?” Jess asked the minute Dean started walking to the kitchen, her eyes locked on the kitchen door.

“Uh… it was Dean.” He explained, sounding a little shocked now that he had a moment to really think about the fact that his brother was here. “So, uh, can we do this sometime later?” he asked Jack and Marcy, who nodded their heads, giving them hugs and quickly leaving.

“Your brother, Dean?” Jess asked staring at Sam the moment she closed the door behind their two friends.

“Yeah… yeah, my brother.” He answered, looking toward the kitchen door. “He needs to talk to me… about something important.”

“How does he know where you live and why didn’t he call?” she asked a little confused, she shook her head, remembering what Sam told her the other night and putting it all together. If Dean was indeed a private investigator than it was probably ridiculously easy to track down his own brother. “Do you want me to be with you?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded with a small smile. “Yeah, c’mon, he’s making coffee.” He said, heading to the kitchen, putting his hand into hers and pulling her with him.

He walked in, surprised that his brother didn’t automatically notice their entrance. Instead it seemed that all of his attention was focused on an empty coffee cup. “Dean,” he said softly not wanting to scare his brother.

The act spooked Dean anyway because he jumped and dropped the coffee cup as he spin around. “Fuck,” Dean mumbled before he dropped down. One hand covering his chest protectively and the other picking up the broken pieces. “Sorry.”

“Dude,” Sam said pulling Dean up as Jess grabbed a broom. “Don’t worry about it. I break them all the time. We’ve got stock on the damn things.”

Dean nodded, frowning as he watched the blonde woman sweep up the glass efficiently, obviously Sam was telling the truth because one moment she was sweeping and the next it was done, the broom and dust pan back in their place. “I’m Jess,” she said when she noticed his stare of confusion.

“My fiancé,” Sam explained, forcing Dean to sit down. “We’re getting married in March.”

“Damn,” Dean mumbled, not looking away from Jess. “Never figured you had it in you Sammy, much better than who you use to go for… much, much, better.”

Jess raised her eyebrows at Sam in amusement, obviously looking forward to either teasing Sam to death about the comment or hearing the sordid details from Dean himself, but Sam just rolled his eyes as he made them all some coffee. “Don’t you dare, Dean,” he mumbled as he put the black coffee in front of Dean. “You said you needed to talk to me?”

Dean looked at Jess for another moment before sighing and looking Sam in the eyes. “Kind of family related, Sam.”

“Fiancé, Dean, she is family.” Sam pointed out, causing Jess to smile slightly. It made her heart swell to know that Sam wasn’t going to exclude her, that he was letting it known that she was there to stay and it wouldn’t make any difference that she was there. So, she reached her hand over and put it on Sam’s leg, rubbing it slightly to show her gratitude.

“Dad’s dead,” Dean said bluntly as he stared into his cup of coffee. “Funeral is next week.”

“H-how,” Sam asked, feeling as if his heart had stopped beating and he completely forgot his joy at seeing his brother again, that Jess was right there beside him. “When?”

“Bullet to the head,” Dean mumbled. His body shook at the memory. “Couple of day’s ago, we uh.” He sighed closing his eyes. “We finally found who… who killed mom. Ended up killing each other.” He managed before taking a drink of the hot coffee, looking at Sam to see how he reacted. To make sure he was going to react and this hadn’t been a wasted trip.

“He-he’s dead?” Sam asked, unable to believe it. Unable to wrap his head around the news so having to ask again, as if hearing he was dead again would make it drill into his brain.

Dean nodded his head. “Wanted you to know he was proud of you… and I figured you might want to go to the funeral. I’m getting him buried next to mom in Lawrence.”

“He… oh God,” Sam mumbled barely feeling Jess wrap her arms around him. “Are you?” he couldn’t speak or think, how the hell was Dean managing it? How was he managing to sit there as if this was a normal conversation, like Dad hadn’t meant anything to him?

“Am I what, Sam?” Dean asked, looking at his brother.

“Are you okay? You were there, weren’t you? Oh fuck, Dean.” Sam mumbled, getting up to hug his brother, feeling Jess’s hand trail down his back, but Dean shied away from him not letting him.

“I’m fine,” Dean mumbled standing up and fumbling a piece of paper out of his pocket. “Here’s the details of the funeral… I’m going to get going now.”

“No,” Sam said instantly, not knowing why other than this uncontrollable urge not to let his brother leave was consuming him. Like something wasn’t right and he couldn’t let his brother leave.

“Sam’s right,” Jess said, speaking up because Dean was looking at Sam like he was crazy and Sam had just froze after the initial ‘no’. “You can stay here. You don’t look like you’re in much shape to be going anywhere anyways… are you sure you’re okay?”

“’M fine,” Dean mumbled confused, looking back and forth between Sam and Jess, feeling vaguely ganged up on. “I really should…”

“You’re staying here,” Sam interrupted, leaving no room for an argument in his tone, as if he was daring Dean to just try and argue with him. “You’re in luck, Jess insisted on a guest room.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled. “Can I talk to you privately for a moment now?”

Sam looked up at Jess who nodded, giving him a small smile. “I’ll go make sure the sheets are clean or something, put some towels out.” She explained before walking out of the kitchen, leaving the two brothers alone.

“What’s so important that we had to be alone?” Sam asked quietly.

“We found out the reason the demon killed mom.” Dean said, not looking at Sam instead focusing his gaze on the picture that was hanging over the stove. “Apparently you should be psychic or something. Anyways, it was the same old death and destruction all demons are into, just on a much bigger scale. We found a couple of kids about your age doing weird psychic shit and going crazy. All their mother’s had died like mom, anyways, I just wanted to make sure you were… that you’re okay….”

“And not crazy?” Sam added, which Dean nodded to.

“Yeah and if you know… If you’ve been, you know. Making things move or seeing things, shit like that.” Dean mumbled, biting his lip as he tilted his head, trying to figure out what exactly the picture was.

“I’m sane, Dean,” Sam mumbled, a silence settled over them for a few minutes. “Were you there… with dad?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered softly, nodding his head. “The… it possessed dad.”

“Then how?” Sam asked confused.

“Dad managed to gain control and he… he shot himself in the head with this colt that kills anything, then they were both dead.” He answered with a shrug, frowning though.

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam mumbled, realizing that Dean had watched it. Had watched their dad blow his head off, and what the hell was that doing to Dean? No wonder he looked so tired.

“Don’t,” Dean growled softly. “Just… if you start going all Miss. Clair or something, I know some people who might help you kind of turn ‘em off or least… enough to pretend they’re not there, control them and shit so you don’t go crazy.”

“Dean,” Sam started but Dean shook his head while he stood up slowly.

“No, I need a shower… and to get my bags out of the car, and sleep since I’m being held hostage.” Dean knew that tone in Sam’s voice, there was no amount of time that could change that meaning and he wasn’t in the mood for the conversation Sam wanted so it was time to escape.

With a sigh, Sam stood up as well. “Fine, I’ll get your bags, just give me your keys and go take a shower.”

Dean sighed and nodded his head, pulling the ring of keys out of one his jacket’s pockets. “Whatever, just remember to…”

“Lock her and don’t dare rest my hands on her, because you’ll kill me if I mess up her detailing. I remember Dean… don’t worry, just take your shower.”

-

“Are you okay?” Jess whispered; her arms wrapped tightly around Sam in their bed.

Sam didn’t answer at first though, he just tensed farther. “I never imagined,” he started after a moment but stopped, trying to figure out what he was saying, what he wanted to say, needed to say. “Dean was there. He saw it all and I can’t. Jess, I can barely work this around my head and… Dean saw it and he’s fucking holding it together. He set up the funeral and I can’t even make myself, I can’t even believe it’s really true. I just can’t help but think that this is some kind of horrible mistake.”

“Maybe it’s because he was there, Sam. He’s probably isn’t letting himself think about it, Sam, just running through the motions. It will hit you both after the funeral.” She said softly. “I’ll be there for you,” she whispered softly.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Sam whispered. “If… when, there’s not going to be anyone for him… and if there is.” He shook his head,” if there is it wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t let anyone be there.” 

-

Sam woke up with a start, frowning as he remembered his dream, watching his father shoot himself. “Oh God,” he mumbled as he rolled himself out of bed carefully. He smiled softly when Jess mumbled something in her sleep and turned over, glad that he hadn’t woken her up.

He needed some coffee, it was morning anyways. Time to get up and get ready for the rest of the day. Try to figure out whatever the hell he was going to do with his brother because the last thing he’d ever expected was this. He knew hunting was a dangerous job; he knew this because he had lived it. But that didn’t mean he had ever really thought that… that his father would die. That he would never be able to make amends with his father. Somehow he had managed to delude himself into thinking his father wasn’t mortal.

And, suddenly, he wanted his dad around so badly that it physically hurt. He wanted to see him just one more time. He wanted his dad to meet Jess, wanted his children to have a grandpa John. To hear his father chastise him one more time, to see his dad’s wobbling grin when they out smarted some monster. He wanted one more rare show of affection, one more fucking argument about anything.

“Sam, it’s five in the morning, please tell me you haven’t miraculously become a morning person and wake up in time to hear the birds or something?” Dean said from behind him, making his way into the kitchen slowly as well, albeit stiffly. He looked like he was in pain and he didn’t look any less tired than the night before.

“Probably the same reason you’re up.” Sam countered, reaching up for the coffee but deciding to not bring that conversation up right now. It was too damn early in the morning to start arguing with his brother.

“There’s that grump I know. Food?” Dean asked, opening a cabinet to find cups and glaring at it as if it had betrayed him.

“Pantry looks like a closet.” Sam mumbled out, knowing what Dean was looking for. “Bowls and spoons in the dishwasher.”

Dean grunted his thanks, slowly gathering what he wanted, his motions a little clumsy in the early hours. “Remember how you used to set up the cabinets whenever we were in an apartment or something?” Sam asked once the coffee was done and they each had a cup of it in front of them.

“Yeah, bowls and spoons by the cereal and spaghettios. Coffee cups right next to the coffee and roach bates in all the other cabinets.” Dean mumbled, stirring his cereal, always liking it a little more soggy than crunchy.

“Yeah, Jess beat that habit out of me.” Sam said with a small smile remembering her face when she saw how he sat up cabinets, and then explaining the smaller details about how you were supposed to set up things like that. At the time he had been entirely embarrassed, not even knowing how the rest of the world arranged their cabinets, but now it had turned into just a fond memory.

“Perfectly good habit.” Dean mumbled in response, barely glancing up to look at Sam. “One cup of coffee means no talking, Sammy.” He pointed out absently, back to eating his now soggy cereal.

“One cup of coffee means you and dad…” Sam stopped mid sentence, swallowing dryly and his forehead crinkling as he realized what he was saying.

“He’s dead; you don’t have to wash him out of your memory.” Dean said calmly, taking a gulp of coffee and pushing the half finished bowl aside, deciding that it was now too soggy to finish.

“What’d you dream about?” Sam asked instead, letting that conversation die before it started as well.

“I didn’t dream,” Dean said tersely, not looking at Sam and instead looking into his cup as he leaned back in his seat.

“What was your nightmare about?” Sam reworded. Five years away didn’t mean he had forgotten how his brother was. It may have caused a distance between them; caused Sam to not completely recognize his brother, but he still knew him. He knew that he was pushing the limits right now, then again it was probably too early for him to realize just how far he was pushing them.

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean growled, standing up too quickly and unable to stop the hiss of pain but managing to keep his glare directed at Sam.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked instantly, jumping up in case Dean was going to be falling down.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Dean answered through clenched teeth, his hand clenching the side of the table. “Just some sore muscles.”

“Mhm,” Sam said but didn’t push any farther. “Sit down then, no need to strain yourself before its really considered morning.”

Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head but sitting down. “No more talking until I’ve had more coffee, Sam.”

-

“You two can fly but I’m driving.” Dean said the instant Sam and Jess had brought up buying plane tickets to Lawrence. Or more precisely, the moment Jess said it might be kind of hard to get three last minute plane tickets.

“Dean, you’re in no condition to be driving half way across the damned country.” Sam said and Dean didn’t have to try very hard to imagine Sam in a muumuu with his hands on his hips, wooden spoon in one and a funny looking purse in the other… going full out bitch on his ass.

“You don’t know what kind of condition I’m in.” Dean growled unintentionally, having to take a deep breath so as not to get up and actually hurt Sam. “I’m not flying Sam, and that’s all she wrote.”

“Are you… can’t be.” Sam said with a small smirk. “You’ve got a problem with flying?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Dean glowered. “And if I did, it would be a very valid problem!”

“I wasn’t saying it wasn’t valid, Dean,” Sam said. “Just kind of shocks me, you’re afraid of flying. Dean you do know that you’re more likely to die in a car accident than to even be involved in a plane crash.”

Dean winced slightly at plane crash but continued to glare at his brother. “Have I ever wrecked my car, Sam, even almost died because of any kind of car accident?” Dean asked cockily.

“No…” Sam answered slowly, not understanding where this was going and not feeling so sure when he wasn’t sure where it was.

“Then don’t tell me anything about odds. I was on a plane, it almost crashed. It’s not happening again, Sam.” Dean said gruffly.

“Fine, we’ll drive down to Kansas, but we’re going to have to leave soon… and you’ll be resting in the back seat because you look like shit, Dean.” Sam agreed.

“You’re not driving my car,” Dean started but Sam shook his head and interrupted him.

“My way or the plane, Dean.”

“You two can take the plan and I’ll drive.” Dean started but Sam shook his head again, smiling when Dean started to sulk because that was when he knew he had won, regardless of what Dean said next. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I want to,” Sam pointed out. There was more to it than that, so much more, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say them to Dean, especially not with Jess in the room with them. He had made a promise to Jess to let her in but Dean wouldn’t react well to that.

“Fine,” Dean mumbled after a moment. “We leave tomorrow though; there are still some things I need to take care of.”

Sam nodded solemnly before asking softly, “funeral stuff?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered just as quietly.

“I can do some of it,” he offered tentatively. “What else needs to be done?”

Dean shook his head though, looking at his brother. “I got it handled; just need to make sure everything’s set at the funeral home and shit.”

“You don’t have to do it all,” Sam started but Dean held up his hand.

“I got it handled,” he repeated, his tone harder. Colder. “I came because I thought you might want to go to the funeral, not to enlist you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, feeling his own temper start to rise. “I want to help Dean, there’s… there’s no damn reason for you to do this all on your own!”

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean said dangerously low. Neither brother noticing Jess standing two feet away from them, looking uncomfortable and wondering if she was going to have to end up breaking up a fight between them.

“God, Dean,” Sam growled. “No, I don’t want you handling this all on your own, you don’t need to. I don’t even know how you’ve managed to do it all but you’re not alone in this, damn it!”

“Give me my keys, Sam,” Dean said as he stood up. He wasn’t going to deal with this right now, it just wasn’t happening and if Sam refused to drop it he was just going to leave. “God damn it, Sam, give me my damned keys!” he yelled when Sam refused.

“No, Dean,” Sam said evenly. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Yes, I fucking am!” Dean yelled. “Give me my keys now Sam or I swear…”

“No!” Sam yelled back. “You’re staying here and we’re doing this together.”

“Oh fuck you,” Dean snorted, shaking his head and looking at his brother with disbelief. “Dude, get out of my way, I don’t need my keys anyways and you know it.”

“No,” Sam barked, not thinking as he threw his hand out to push Dean back. He immediately regretted it though, knowing how big a mistake it had been when Dean doubled over. His hands clutching his chest and taking slow, deep, breaths from his nose. “Dean! I’m sorry.” Sam said instantly, reaching out to try and help his brother.

“Ge’ off me,” Dean mumbled, unable to force himself to stand up straight right now. “Just… back off.”

“What… let me see your chest.” Sam said, but he took a step back anyways, moving out of his brother’s space.

“No,” Dean growled, managing to push himself into an upright position and taking a deep breath more to show Sam that he could than anything else. “Just back the fuck off.”

“No, Dean,” Sam wasn’t going to back down. Not for something like this when his brother was hurt, hurt enough for him to double over from just a shove. “Just let me see how hurt you are. Please?”

“It’s nothing, Sam, just lay off.’ Dean mumbled. “I’m serious, go fawn over your girlfriend or something.”

“Damn it, Dean, I swear,” Sam started under his breath, having to take a deep breath to make sure this didn’t turn into a heated argument again. “Just take your shirt off because I’m not dropping this.”

“This is ridiculous, Sam,” Dean mumbled, staring Sam down. “I’m not stripping just to satisfy your morbid curiosity.”

“It has nothing to do with my curiosity, Dean,” Sam snarled. “I want to… fuck it, Dean. If you don’t let me see what’s wrong with you so I know if I hurt you I will take that shirt off of you right now.”

“It’s some cuts, nothing serious.” Dean started but stopped when Sam just stared at him with that God damned look. “You’re fucking impossible.” Dean mumbled but finally began pulling the thin shirt off. “It’s so fucking wonderful to know that some damn things don’t change,” he continued to mumble under his breath.

Sam stared at his brother’s chest for a moment, looking at the stitches and bruises covering it, wondering why their wasn’t anything covering it and then remembering that he had gotten Dean’s bags last night, which meant there had been nothing. “Oh, that’s really only a few.” Sam said sarcastically, angry at Dean for not letting him know and angry at himself for not figuring it out, for being the sole reason Dean didn’t trust him enough to tell him. “How long did they want to keep you?”

“Too long, can I put my shirt back on or do you want to gawk some more.” Dean asked, staring at Sam as if daring him to argue with him.

“Whatever,” Sam mumbled, turning around and shaking his head as he walked toward the kitchen, Jess quickly following him, looking back at Dean for just a moment.

-

“Yes mom, we’ll be safe.” Jess said into the phone, giving Sam a small smile as he walked into their room. “No, I already told you, he has a thing about flying.” She explained sounding slightly exasperated. “Mom, I really don’t know, listen I’ll call you back later… bye.”

“What’d your mom have to say?” Sam asked quietly, sitting down behind her on their bed before wrapping his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

“She wants me to give you her condolences, thinks that we should dope your brother up and drag him onto a plane. She also judged that he must have control issues,” she said with a small wink when she turned to look at Sam. “Speaking of your brother, is he asleep?”

Sam nodded, “shoved two pills down his throat and he was out.”

“Good, he doesn’t look like he’s been sleeping well.” She said softly, pushing Sam down on the bed. “And neither are you,” she said with that look and tone of voice that meant that it just wasn’t acceptable and there was no amount of argument that could make her drop it.

“I’m fine,” Sam said with a small smile. “I’ll be fine,” he reworded when Jess kept giving him that damned look instead of letting her features soften. “Just with dad and worrying about Dean, I don’t know what to do… he won’t. I know he won’t open up about it but this has got to be killing him, you saw him.” Sam whispered softly. “He was tortured and he watched dad die, the only thing keeping him going right now is going to that funeral, you know?”

She leaned down and kissed him chastely on his lips. “Maybe you could convince him to talk to my dad or something.” She offered quietly.

Sam snorted softly, turning them over. “I’d have a better chance convincing him to paint his car pink. He’s never been much on talking.”

“Can’t hurt too much to at least offer it,” she said softy. “Maybe he’d accept talking to someone he’s not close to you know. He seems like the worrier type after all his man exterior and I don’t know, maybe if he’s not worrying about worrying you or something… he’ll open up?”

Sam shrugged knowing that Jess’s father wouldn’t fit that bill for Dean but he knew what Jess was saying. “Maybe he’s changed,” he admitted softly. “I doubt that he’s changed to be willing to talk but I’ll throw it out there.”

-

Dean sighed as he stood in front of the mirror, nervously fixing his tie, trying to get it straight, perfect. It was a loosing cause though; ties had never been on the list of things his father had taught them. He could make them decent though, just not perfect. Not good enough.

“Dean, you almost ready?” Sam asked him softly from the other side of the door. He had barricaded himself in the bathroom some time ago. He had been determined to get away from their damn glances, Sam with that fucking mother hen in need of antidepressants look and Jess with just one of plain pity. He didn’t even think Jess belonged here today, but Sam wanted her and what Sam wanted Sam got. Just like always because Sam did that damned thing with his eyes, and maybe because he didn’t have the energy to even try to disagree.

“No,” he answered simply, glaring at his reflection. “I’ll be out in a few,” he called out after a minute realizing that he might have just bit Sam’s head off and it wasn’t Sam’s fault he couldn’t make this fucking fabric straight.

He didn’t hear anything after that though and he figured he was safe for a few more minutes at least; maybe he’d be able to get this damn tie right by then. He doubted it though; it was fucking content with being lopsided. He wasn’t going to ask fucking college boy out there to help him though, he could tie a damn tie on his own. He was competent enough for that, at least.

Finally, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, if the tie wanted to be fucked up then it would be fucked up. It’s not like his father was going to see what he was dressed in anyways or would have cared anyways. Then he walked out of the small bathroom, tugging on his sleeves uncomfortably and looking around the room. “Ready?” he asked, like he would be able to go anywhere if they weren’t. Like his keys hadn’t been fucking confiscated like he was a damned teenager.

Sam nodded his head, looking at him for a moment before grabbing the keys. “Yeah, we are.” He answered simply after a moment, pulling the car keys out of his pocket and letting Jess wrap her arm around his waist. “You look nice.”

“I feel like a reject,” Dean growled irritably, reaching up to mess with his tie self consciously.

“Let me fix that for you,” Jess offered, letting go of Sam to walk up to Dean and ignoring the glare that he was directing to her. “Sam can’t tie a tie if it showed him how,” she said lightly. “I’m always having to do them for him,” then she was done and back to latching onto Sam.

Dean took a deep breath, trying to make sure he wasn’t a complete ass to Jess before nodding his head. “Thanks,” he ended up mumbling and hanging his head, darting it back up when he heard Sam chuckle. “Shut the fuck up, Sam, and get in the car.”

-

Dean swallowed, realizing they were late, that there were people already waiting, other hunters mostly but some people who had to be Dad’s family. He really didn’t recognize most of the people here, he had just ran through the numbers in his dad’s journal and called each one, figured if they were important enough to be in there they were important enough to go to his funeral. “Hey Bobby,” he greeted quietly and receiving a pat to the back. “There’s a lot of people here,” he mumbled after a moment, looking around the group, the distinction between who was in their business and who was family painfully clear.

“Yeah, there is.” Bobby replied, looking around. “Did you find Sam?”

“Yeah, he’s with the blonde,” he motioned toward the two of them who were talking to their grandparents. Dean had been surprised to find their numbers; to even find them at all really surprised him. He couldn’t remember ever visiting them before, hell, he was shocked that they were both still alive. They looked two steps away from dying though, guess they were a step closer now though, oldest son being dead and all.

“I never would have imagined little Sammy had that in him,” Bobby said in approval and Dean nodded in agreement.

“She’s probably into the shy dorky type, kind of a waste.” He said lightly, tilting his head and swallowing a bit. “They got a nice set up over in Palo Alto, I think she’s some sort of artist, Lord knows Sammy isn’t.”

“I thought he left for normal?” Bobby asked with a small chuckle, looking a little bit confused. For a moment Dean was surprised that Bobby knew why Sam had left, but then he realized that his dad had probably told Bobby while they were both drinking themselves stupid, before the incident with the shot gun. “You ready for this?” he asked even quieter, turning to study the younger man more closely and breaking him from his memories of a pissed Bobby warning John that he’d shoot him if he came back.

“Yes,” he answered stiffly, glaring in the direction of Sam. “I better go greet the rest of the people,” he mumbled and escaped from Bobby, not wanting to have that knowing look focused in his direction. He was dealing with too many of those looks lately.

-

Dean sighed, actually wishing that he hadn’t opted out of the service in a church or whatever, at least it would have delayed this part. Watching the cheap casket being lowered into the ground, reinforcing that this was it and his father was dead. He had been skirting around the issue all week, refusing to even think about it beyond what needed to be done. He had treated it like it was just some other person that he needed to figure out how to bury, or where to bury, or who the fuck deserved to go to the funeral.

Now there was no avoiding it, because there was that dark brown fucking coffin being lowered down slowly. There wasn’t going to be any surprise, hey God decided I did a good deed by shooting my fucking brains out and is letting me have a second shot, none of that bullshit that you could see in some movie. Nice loving God didn’t give second chances even when you devoted your life to fucking getting rid of demons, but at least maybe he would allow some of their sorry asses into heaven and if any of their kind would be allowed in, there was no doubt in Dean’s mind that John Winchester would be first in line.

He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

It was just BAM no more, he hadn’t even bothered to say good fucking bye to Dean. He just stared at Dean and then blew his fucking brains out, like the stupid mother fucker couldn’t find out another way to kill the bastard. No, that could be their only chance and John Winchester never being a man to miss his chances fucking took it. Didn’t even care that it was Dean who was going to have to bury his stupid ass or that Dean would have the fucking image of his father’s brains hitting the wall forever burned into his damn head so that every time he closed his eyes that was the only damn thing he saw.

Dean didn’t even realize he was shaking or that his hands were clenched into tight fists until Sam had put a hand on his shoulder. Then he was back to watching the damn coffin being put in the damn ground again instead of brains flying, and he realized he couldn’t watch this. His fucking father could kiss his ass; he couldn’t be here right now in front of friends of his father on the verge of a complete fucking breakdown. Men that he was still going to have to work with every once in awhile, that he wouldn’t be able to if he started freaking out right now because he had fucking pride.

So, he turned around and pushed through them, so many damn hunters that would probably understand any tears that decided to come because most of them had been in the business as long as his father had. They knew what kind of gig it was and had seen enough hunters pass away, they would understand but Dean wasn’t going to have any of it. He was going to go wait in the car until that shit was all done with and then he was going to drink himself into a stupor at the bar he had booked the reception thing for.

It was going to be a hell of a bar tab.

Sam had been watching his brother throughout the funeral, every once in awhile glancing at him to see how he was reacting and for most of it he had kept a stony face on but toward the casket being lowered Sam had started seeing his brother start to crack. It had started with Dean’s eyes narrowing, and then his fists had started to clench and unclench… then the shaking.

He had tried to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, not really sure what to do but figuring that was the best route to go. Dean had ended up stalking off though, and Sam had followed of course. He had given Jess a small smile and she had nodded her head, understanding that he needed to follow his brother, then he was following Dean.

He already knew where his brother was going though; it didn’t take much to know that he would make his way toward the Impala that Sam had left unlocked because they were in a damned cemetery. As expected, he found Dean sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, glaring out the windshield, so he just opened the door and slid in.

He just stared out the window, waiting for Dean to turn toward him and say something first. “What are you doing here?” Dean finally asked after a moment of silence, but not looking at Sam. Sam had entered into his space, and he was damned well going to explain himself.

“Sitting with you,” Sam answered easily turning to look at Dean. “Wanted to know why you left but then I realized after I was halfway here that you probably wouldn’t tell me so decided I would just sit here and wait until it was over with you.”

“I wanted to be alone, so I told you, now you can go.” Dean answered, his jaw clenched and his hands moving to clench the steering wheel.

“I don’t want to go, Dean,” Sam said softly, turning to stare back out the window. “I want to make sure you’re okay even though I’m pretty sure you’ll probably still lie and tell me you are even if you’re not.”

With a loud sigh, Dean turned to look at Sam before shaking his head and leaning it back and closing his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine,” he mumbled, his grip loosening on the steering wheel slightly, taking deep breaths in and out.

“I never thought dad would ever die… not really.” Sam said after another moment of silence, rubbing his leg a little nervously. “I mean I know what… I know it’s dangerous. But you know, he was always kind of like superman to me.”

“Minus the flying and kryptonite shit,” Dean added softly and when Sam turned to look at his brother he could see a tear sliding slowly down his brother’s face. Just a single tear and Sam felt his heart stop for a moment, but he bit his lip and took his own deep breath.

“I out grew him and he still seemed bigger to me, you know, he always just seemed… taller than me.”

He heard Dean swallow, God, it sounded painful, like he was swallowing down his soul. “He was a fucking asshole,” Dean said angrily. “Fucking selfish asshole, he was more than willing to sacrifice himself for that… for that fucking demon; didn’t think twice you know?”

Sam definitely didn’t know what to say to that, it wasn’t something he had expected from Dean. So, he just sat there, waiting for Dean to finish, which he did because with his eyes closed, Dean couldn’t notice the shocked expression on Sam’s face.

“He looked at me and fucking did it, didn’t say goodbye or smile or anything. Just fucking did it, didn’t even give me a chance to tell him we’d find another way. Fucking bastard just killed himself in front of me, like it would be okay because he finally fucking killed it.” Dean continued to rant, his voice starting to shake and a few more tears starting to roll down his pale cheeks. “He didn’t even fucking care… he didn’t give a shit that he was leaving me alone. Never fucking does. You know I had to find him, huh Sam? I spent half a year searching for his stupid ass, Sam.”

Dean’s chuckles were sounding more like sobs, but Sam didn’t interrupt his brother, didn’t move because he had rarely ever heard Dean talk bad about their father. Here Dean was though, at his funeral none the less, and maybe this was how Dean broke down. Maybe this was Dean breaking down and accepting the fact that John Winchester was dead and never coming back.

“He left me a fucking year ago without even a fucking call, Sam and you know what? I was so freaked out I was tempted to fucking come and try to get you to help me find him. I was pretty damned tempted, I even drove through Palo Alto. I didn’t though, I just kept on driving through it, and then he fucking pops up one day… like nothing happened. Like he fucking didn’t drop me off like some piece of trash!”

Sam couldn’t stop himself, he reached a hand out and put it on Dean’s shoulder because now he had his own tears in his eyes and he was shaking too. “Dean,” he said softly but he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what to offer Dean to make him better, didn’t even know if there was anything to offer that would help Dean.

“Don’t touch me, Sam,” Dean nearly growled, jerking away from Sam’s hand. “Just… don’t fucking touch me right now.”


	2. Chapter 2

It started with a shot of whiskey and then Dean was staring at people who were supposed to be the family that he had never met, pretending to listen to them talk about how John had used to be, how until Mary had died there was a fire in his eyes that just wouldn’t go out.

He wondered briefly if that fire looked anything like the one in his father’s eyes when they had found that damned colt.

“You’ve grown up nice,” his uncle told him and Dean raised an eyebrow, a little confused. If he only knew how he really was, he’d probably take that back. “Heard Sam’s becoming a lawyer…”

He only tuned into parts of the conversations that were directed to him. There were old military buddies of his dad’s here, family and old friends, and numbers of hunters and now that Dean was thinking about it, he was pretty sure he had never met half of them.

The military and the hunters kind of mixed together, a lot of them had the same kinds of backgrounds… in a way anyways, and they both had something inside of them that they could recognize. The family, they were the outsiders in this whole get together of a reception. Some would exchange stories with some of the military buddies… but they mostly kept to their own group.

They didn’t belong here, Dean realized after a minute and he suddenly felt kind of sick.

He was really alone now, he had no family. He was an orphan and he’d be alone from now on. Sam was going to turn out how the rest of the family was to him, outsiders, not really there… only called because it was expected.

“I’ve gotta,” he mumbled distractedly to whoever he was talking to and he started weaving through the people.

There was a cold sweat starting on his skin and the world was starting to spin, too much alcohol and pills and too little sleep. It was all compounding on him and he knew he was going to pass out if he didn’t get the fuck out of here right now.

“Dean?” Sam said softly when he shoved past him, stumbling on his way and then he was clutching at Sam’s arm, using it to hold him up. “You okay man?” he asked softly but Dean shook his head, holding on tighter with his eyes shut tightly.

There were pictures of his father’s brains hitting the wall and then him, Dean, lying on the ground dying all alone. Without a soul to know who he really was, to even bury him before he started to rot, to lie and tell him that he’d be okay.

“Sit,” Sam said softly as he pushed his brother into a chair, ignoring the worried crowd that had started to surround them. “What’s wrong Dean?”

But Dean wasn’t really there and he wasn’t listening, stuck with images of his father’s brains all over the god damned place and alone. His chest was too tight, his heart thumping too fast because Dean could deal with anything other than alone. He didn’t do alone good. He had proven that when his father had dropped him off like dirty laundry, he had basically self destructed. It was a surprise that he had even met up with his father, been alive to do it.

Sam watched in horror, not sure what to do because Dean was fucking trembling, his eyes squeezed shut and still clutching to his arm. His brother was loosing it, here in this room full of people and he didn’t know what to do. “Dean,” he repeated even softer, his hand now clutching Dean’s arm as well. “C’mon,” he whispered and now he was shaking too, the tears from his brother’s eyes like a switch that set off his own emotional crisis.

“What’s wrong with him?” One of their uncles asked, stepping forward to try to help. “I’m a doctor,” he said softly when Sam just glared at him because he didn’t know what was wrong with his brother, other than this just may be how his brother finally breaks down. “Is he taking any medication or drugs?”

“Just some pain killers and anti-biotics…” he mumbled, biting his lip because Dean’s eyes were now open, and looking at the two of them with no emotion. There were still tears on Dean’s cheeks though; coming slowly from his eyes and the look was chilling.

“Get off me,” he mumbled, shaking Sam’s hands off of him and starting to push himself up.

“Dean,” Sam started but his brother wasn’t having any of it, and he literally shoved Sam away, causing him to stumble and fall on his butt. “Dean!” he yelled, his own anger starting to rise. “What the fuck?”

“I said get the fuck off of me,” Dean growled as he pushed the uncle away as well, his breath coming in short angry breaths. “Why the hell are you even here,” he asked the same man. “You didn’t know him; you haven’t even fucking spoken to him in twenty fucking years.”

The uncle just took a step back, raising his hands up a little shocked but not going to argue with Dean. Sam would though and he did. “He’s family Dean!”

“No he’s not!” Dean screamed, “None of them are! None of them knew him,” he barked with his arms wildly flying. “They all abandoned him when he needed them, they called him crazy Sam! They tried to take us away from him, did you know that? No, wait,” Dean laughed. “You’d have probably been thankful for that, huh Sammy, you never liked how he raised us…”

“He didn’t raise us Dean.” Sam growled, pulling himself up and stepping into Dean’s face. “You raised me, and nobody raised you. Maybe that’s why you’re so fucked up,” his voice was deadly soft as glared into his brother’s face. “Maybe that’s why you’re freaking out, why you were always… why you did everything he said, no matter what it was.”

Then Dean’s fist flew out, slamming into Sam’s face and it was on because they’d both inherited their father’s temper and the end of their ropes had been reached long ago. It was a short, clumsy fight, ended with them being pulled apart, both gasping for air on opposite sides of the room. “Fuck you, Sam!” Dean yelled, still struggling to get away from the hands that were holding him back.

Sam had calmed down by then, taking deep breaths and letting two sets of hands rest on his shoulder.

“Fuck you! You didn’t fucking know him, none of you did!” Dean continued to yell and then Sam saw Pastor Jim step in front of Dean and words were whispered that Sam couldn’t hear but somehow it had managed to calm his brother down. Sam watched Dean slump into the hands of one of dad’s military buddies and Bobby, before he shoved away from them and stormed off into the bathroom.

Sam bit his lip, closing his eyes and trying to ignore how everyone was looking at him as he picked up a table they had knocked over. “You okay,” Jess asked softly from behind him and he nodded his head, both hands resting on the table.

“Yeah… I need to go check up on him,” he answered after a moment and another deep breath.

“You sure that’s a smart idea?” she asked, obviously thinking it wasn’t because Sam’s nose was bleeding from that first punch and if any fights started in the bathroom… there wouldn’t be anyone there to stop it.

“No,” Sam answered truthfully. “I still have to though.”

He side stepped anybody that was in his way, nodding at Pastor Jim who was standing guard at the bathroom door. “He throwing shit in there?” he asked as he stopped in front of the door.

“Stopped about a minute ago,” Jim answered with a small smile. “I think the worst of the storm has passed.”

Sam nodded and pushed the door open, looking around with his eyebrows raised and then spotting his brother sitting on the floor in the corner, his hands in his lap and head hanging. “Dean?” he asked softly as he closed his door, taking a deep breath when Dean didn’t even move to acknowledge him. “I’m sorry about all that shit I said, I didn’t mean it,” he started as he kept on walking to his brother’s position. “Just trying to hit you below the belt, you know.”

When Dean still didn’t refuse, he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder and looked at him closely before muttering a shocked fuck. “I think I popped my stitches,” Dean mumbled finally, his hands squeezing into fists. “I think I’m drunk too.”

“I’d say so,” Sam mumbled. “Can I see how bad?” he asked and when Dean nodded listlessly he slowly lifted up Dean’s shirt, wincing because Dean hadn’t put any bandages on it again and he could easily see just how many stitches he had broken. “I think we should get you to a doctor or something,” he said softly before mumbling out a couple of useless apologies and helping Dean to his feet.

“It can wait,” Dean said softly as he buttoned up his jacket. “I have a few apologies to make myself.”

-

It was nearly midnight when they finally left, Dean a lot drunker than he had been when he had exploded at everyone and most of the family had left. They only left when they had because Sam had finally convinced Dean that he needed to lay down before he fell down.

He hadn’t had another freak out though, and he’d made his apologies to the family individually. They had all seemed understanding and Sam couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Dad had acted after their mother had died. That they had kind of expected it.

So two offers to stay with family and one with an old friend their dad had served with on a battlefield somewhere and they were back into their hotel room. “Just stitch me back up yourself, Sam,” Dean was saying and Sam’s face was glowing red because Jess knew that he knew an abnormal amount of information on how to deal with wounds but she hadn’t known that he knew how to give stitches to any.

“You really should go to a doctor,” Sam said but Dean was already pulling out an old first aid kit, one that Sam recognized from the last few years he'd spent with his father. He even remembered why they had gotten that one; instead of using the same one they'd had since Sam was a baby. Dad and Dean had come back from hunting, he must have been thirteen or fourteen, both banged up and bleeding pretty badly. It was the first time he had to fix them up on his own, usually one of them were able enough or there was someone else there. He had fumbled, badly that time. The first aid kit had paid pretty badly and lost its latch. “I don’t have any anesthetic.”

“I’m drunk enough that I don’t need any,” Dean mumbled and Jess was watching them in kind of a shocked horror but Sam needed to ignore her right now or he would never get this done and the scars on Dean’s chest would be just that much worse.

With Dean lying on the bed Sam started to slowly stitch his brother back together, and Sam hoped it was ironic in the way that he would eventually end up sewing the metaphysical pieces of Dean back together as well.

-

“You never told me you know how to give stitches,” Jess whispered softly later that night, her arms wrapped around Sam and Sam watching his brother sleep.

“I never really thought about it,” Sam whispered softly. “One of my dad’s friends taught us how and it’s just been something I needed to know.” She didn’t need to know about the time when he was eleven and had to stitch up Dean because their dad had been knocked in the head too hard. How it would have been better for their father to do it even though he was seeing double because his own hands had been shaking so badly that he’d done more damage than good, even with his supervision. That it had taken a week for them to get to Jefferson and Dean had gotten a fever by then because Sam had forgotten to sanitize the needle he had used. How Dean still had the ugly scar on the outside of his thigh with little circle scars on both side of it where Sam had pierced his skin way too deeply.

“Your dad…” Jess started but she stopped and Sam could tell that she wasn’t comfortable by what she was about to say by the way her arms tensed around him, as if they were barring him from the fight her words might bring. “He never… hurt you?”

“No,” Sam said with a small snort. “My dad’s… work, sometimes it mixed with his personal life and later on when we were teenagers he brought us with him. He never abused us Jess, nothing like that.”

“Good,” she said softly, her lips against his neck, with a small sigh of relief. Because just that short thought about Sam having to go through that, sent a chill and a spike of pain through her heart.

“He loved us,” Sam explained softly. “He did the best he could, I guess, ya know. He wanted to keep us safe… and the only way he could figure to do that was to train us so we could take care of ourselves and to get rid of every evil son of a bitch out there. Dean raised me though; he’s the one who was always there really. I mean… Dad, he supported us and I can remember a few times when I was sick that he was there… but unless I was bleeding badly… Dean always took care of me. Made sure I was fed and clean and clothed… somehow even made sure I didn’t turn into an emotionless soldier.”

“Sounds like you were lucky to have Dean,” she whispered against his neck.

Sam laughed softly, pulling Jess’s arms tighter around him. “Yeah… I really was. Dad would leave us alone sometimes… since before I can remember. He’d leave enough food to last us until after he was expected back and a shotgun, maybe a couple of bucks if we were lucky. And Dean… Dean just stepped up to be both parents to me, you know?

“I remember this time, some hotel somewhere that dad left us alone at. God… Dean had to have been nine or something and I was spoiled, all I had to do was give this look to him and I’d get my way. Dean gave me the last of the Lucky Charms even though he hadn’t had any, threw away the spaggetios he had made for me and everything. Then he tucked me into bed and read me some story. It was always like that.”

-

Sam was woken up sometime later by the sound of a loud crashing and than a door slamming, Jess sitting up with him. “It’s Dean,” he said softly, “go back to sleep baby.”

Then he was climbing out of bed, walking toward the bathroom door and knocking softly before opening the door, finding his brother leaning over the toilet. “Have a little too much to drink?” he asked, no teasing in his voice.

Dean grunted and nodded, pushing himself up and leaning against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Shouldn’t have had that last shot,” he mumbled out after a minute. Opening his eyes half way before taking in a deep breath and actually speaking, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Dean… you hit everything between your bed and the bathroom and the last crash finally woke me up, you did pretty fucking well considering.” Sam said with a small smile trying to lighten up the mood with a shitty joke.

“Even racing to the toilet I’m graceful,” Dean played along, accepting Sam’s hand to pull him up. “What I said earlier… at the reception… it was uncalled for man, I’m sorry.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly, his hand on his brother’s back as he led him back toward his bed. “Don’t worry about it man, seriously.”

Then he was helping Dean slowly lay back down and putting the trashcan in easy grabbing reach before lying back down to sleep. “Night Sammy,” Dean mumbled and Sam smiled because it had been a really long time since he had last heard that, long before he left for Sanford. He wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of missed it.

-

“Figuring after I drop you two off I’ll head out, get out of your hair.” Dean mumbled over a cup of coffee in some random diner so reminiscent of all the ones of their childhood that Sam felt a sharp ache in his chest.

“Actually Sam and I were wondering if you wanted to stay for a little while,” Jess spoke up suddenly from her salad. “At least until you’re all better, you know.” She started when both brothers looked at her a little shocked. “And I can bug you about all the embarrassing childhood stories about Sam because God knows that he’ll never tell me.”

“What she really means is that she wants to show you off to her family, kind of like shoving it in their faces that her man comes from good genes.” Sam said with a smirk, jumping when Jess pinched his arm hard. “No really Dean, I miss you and we got plenty of room…”

“I got a job to do,” Dean tried in that ‘no games, duh’ look, but Sam shook his head.

“You can’t do it in the condition you’re in right now anyways… and I stole you’re favorite shirt so you have to come back.” Sam said with a small smirk that had Dean glaring at him.

“You’re going to keep on doing that aren’t you; take something of mine that I really like just to make sure I come back. You have some real abandonment issues, you know that?” Dean stated and Sam nodded his head with a big grin, ignoring the last comment completely. “I guess it’d save money while I rest up…”

“Good it’s settled then,” Jess grinned. “Now I can paint both of you together.” And she really did sound a little too happy about that.

-

Sam jumped out of bed when a loud scream ripped through the walls, knowing that Jess was quick on his heels while he raced through the whole apartment and finally to the room Dean was staying in. He found Dean in the middle of a nightmare, his sheets twisted around his feet and his body trying to fight something. “Dean,” he yelled as he hopped onto the bed and grabbed his brother’s hands, trying to stop them from hitting Dean’s chest anymore. “Dean, wake up!”

Just like that, Dean’s eyes were open and he was gasping for breath, his eyes locking on Sam’s almost instantly. “He did it… he did it,” Dean gasped. “So it wouldn’t hurt me anymore, he’s dead cuz I insisted on being with him Sammy.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam said forcefully, staring down into his brother’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault Dean.”

Dean swallowed but he nodded his head and slowly Sam let go of his brother, climbing off of him and running his hand through his own hair. “The doctors at the hospital wanted me to see a shrink, insisted that I was going to be fucked up because of what happened. I heard them talking about committing me… think they should have?” Dean asked after awhile of both of them sitting there in silence. Sam staring at his sweaty brother, eyes crinkled in worry, and Dean staring off at the opposite wall, catching his breath and forcing the shaking to stop.

“No,” Sam said simply, as if there wasn’t even a possibility.

“So you don’t think I’m losing it then?”

“Oh you’ve been losing it for a long time,” Sam said with a small, comforting, smile. “But you’re not crazy… maybe you need a little help with this, but anyone would. I mean you saw it Dean… something like that isn’t going to be gone with the snap of your fingers.”

“Kind of wish it would be,” Dean mumbled before turning over. “Sorry about waking you.”

Sam shook his head though and didn’t answer, patting Dean’s arm before standing up. He walked out of the room slowly, knowing that when Dean had turned over that it had been the end of the conversation. That it had been as far as Dean was willing to go at the moment and he’d just have to let it go for a little bit.

“Is he okay?” Jess asked once Sam closed the door and he nodded his head with a small sigh.

“Nightmare… about what happened to dad.” He explained, wrapping his arm around her as they walked back to their room. “He’s gonna try and bolt in the morning.”

Jess nodded, pushing Sam up against the wall. “He’s coming to that dinner if I have to knock him upside his hard head.” She said softly but forcefully and Sam nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll intercept him, don’t worry Jess.” He mumbled softly, thinking about how he knew exactly what Jess was scheming at and it had very little to do with her family actually meeting Dean. It was all because Sam was worried about Dean, and hell so was Jess, and the only way she could think of fixing it was to get Dean to talk to somebody. And she had to fix it.

It was the way she was, something that had attracted Sam to her because she wouldn't let things go and that was how Sam was. And maybe that was how Dean was too, he could admit sometimes, and he had missed his brother so badly by the time he had met her.

-

Jess woke up late that morning, stumbling out of bed and pulling on one of Sam’s shirts, planning on heading out with that and her raggiest jeans on. Her most comfortably comforting jeans that had holes in the knees and one that kept growing at the back pocket, and Sam absolutely hated and loved at the same time.

“I knew Sam wore your clothes,” she heard from the table as she struggled to make a cup of coffee.

“You know Dean,” she started as she fell into a chair and chose to ignore his version of a good morning. “I love you being here, coffee is always made.” She didn’t actually need to sound human right now, it was all family and Dean didn't really act like much of a human in the morning either. Fair was fair.

“I keep trying to tell you that you’re marrying the wrong Winchester.” Dean replied with that smirk that Jess had grown accustomed to.

“Speaking of the wrong Winchester, where is he?” she asked, grabbing a piece of Dean’s toast.

“Right behind you,” and she nearly jumped but she heard the lightness in his voice. “So you’re going to elope with my brother now? Leave me to hang… you know… I think your mother won’t like Dean anymore than she liked me, worse even.” Sam pointed out as he dropped a bag onto the table

“She’d probably hate me… that is if she,” Dean started to agree but Sam smacked his arm and stopped him mid sentence, because Sam knew exactly what Dean was going to say and it was inappropriate. More inappropriate than most things Dean said, much more and he really didn't want to see Jess slap Dean… though maybe a little bit, but not that much. “Most parents don’t like me.” Dean ended up finishing, and Sam sighed because sometimes Dean just didn't take the hint and his mouth kept running.

Jess just grinned, coffee in hand, unaware of what Sam just avoided. “Sam, the more my parents don’t like them, the better they are. That’s the only reason you won out against Jeremy Bates…”

Dean grinned with her as Sam rolled his eyes and plopped down at the table; he leaned up and whispered into Jess’ ear. “Little Sammy here never believed that the bad boy routine did any good.”

-

That night found them all gathered in Jess’s parent’s living room, Dean snoring softly in a chair he had sat down in almost an hour ago. “Are you sure he’s all right?” Jess’s mother asked for what had to have been the fifteenth time that night.

“He’s either dying or he feels comfortable here,” Sam said with a small smile, looking over at his brother. “He usually doesn’t fall asleep randomly but it’s the medication he’s on…” Sam said somberly. “He’s fine though, I promise.”

“Mom, c’mon I need to brag about my fiancé’s brother.” Jess said suddenly, standing up and grabbing her mother’s arm before looking at Sam and her father meaningfully.

“That’s my cue to start pestering you,” Jess’s father said with a small sigh. “She wants you to talk to me about your brother.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam sighed softly, looking over at Dean and felt as if he was almost betraying his brother. Dean was still snoring softly though, his head resting on his shoulder and arms crossed protectively over his chest. “She thinks you’ll know a way to help him… but she doesn’t get that Dean won’t accept help, one way or another.”

“Sounds like you want to figure out a way to help him too,” he replied and Sam nodded his head with a small snort.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Joe, like you wouldn’t believe.” He said wistfully and turned to look at his brother again. “I found out last night that he blames himself, which is pretty normal for him… but still.”

“You’re worried about what that kind of weight is going to do to him,” Joe finished for Sam, watching him nod solemnly. “I could give you several options that you could try Sam, somehow I don’t see your brother too willing to try any of them though.”

“How do most people get over something like that?” Sam asked after a moment of watching his brother start to twitch in his sleep, something he had never seen before, Dean always being one to stay absolutely still in his sleep.

“A lot of therapy and different mixtures of medication.” Joe said matter-of-factly. “Sam here’s what I can tell you, from interacting with your brother all night. He’s depressed, he’s hiding it good but it’s there and it’s only going to get worse unchecked. He could very well go on living the rest of his life never talking to anybody about whatever transpired that night but it’s eventually going to end up embodying itself into something. I can’t tell you what, that all depends on your brother and several other factors. The nightmares will fade in time most likely…”

A groan startled them both and they both turned toward Dean, watching as his face contorted and then a small whimpering noise started coming from him. “Would you mind if we made use of those guest rooms you offered?” Sam asked quietly as he stood up, the rain still pounding heavy on the roof.

Joe shook his head, watching as Sam gently shook his brother, instantly waking the older Winchester up. “Wha?” Dean asked, blinking as he looked around and still half asleep.

Sam knew that Dean was looking for danger, to figure out how awake he needed to be for whatever Sam wanted. “Nothing, just moving you to a bed so you won’t wake up complaining about your neck.” He told his brother softly and Dean nodded, eyes drifting closed as he let Sam pull him up.

“Where we at?” Joe heard Dean mumble, shaking Sam’s arms off of him so that he could sway where he stood.

“The soon to be in-laws Dean,” Sam explained. “It’s raining too hard to drive back right now.” He explained when Dean opened his mouth, causing him to shut it again and nod his head.

“Lead me to the bed then.”

-

“Please tell me that’s not bleach,” Joe said the next morning, wincing as he saw Dean sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning silverware… obviously done shining anything that was brass in the kitchen.

“It’s not,” Dean said quietly. “Hope you don’t mind… I started cleaning the dishes from last night and found it oddly relaxing.” Then he was smirking, “I found the bucket labeled ‘needs to be polished’ under the sink when I was looking for the soap.”

“Oh I don’t mind… long as it’s not bleach, I’ve been putting off doing those for ages. Anne’s been ready to kill me for the last month, acts as if it were a matter of life or death.” Jo said lightheartedly, a little surprised to see a pot of coffee made.

“Jess woke up about an hour ago, said I could keep the pot full if I wanted.” Dean explained at Joe’s face as he turned back to polishing the silver. “Psychologists have late days?” Dean asked conversationally when Joe sat down opposite of him.

“This psychologist has no day on Friday,” Joe said brightly. “I lounge around and grunt until noon.”

“Self imposed Sabbath,” Dean mumbled with a wry smile, holding up the fork to see if it passed his standards.

“You’re a morning person I gather,” Joe asked but Dean shook his head. “Bad dreams?”

“Trying to analyze me doc?” Dean asked, looking up at the doctor with an eyebrow raised.

“Too early for me to do much good if I tried,” Joe replied light heartedly but Dean just continued to stare at him.

“Sam and Jess set you up to it, didn’t they?” Dean asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Get me to talk about it, then we could all have a group hug and it’d all be all right, huh?”

“Sam and Jess are worried about you,” Joe clarified, taking a sip of his coffee because he hadn’t been lying when he had said it was too early. “Both of them know how bad of an idea it is to keep things locked up inside all of the time.”

“So they did set me up?” Dean growled and Joe just shrugged his shoulders.

“Jess did, she’s always schemed like that.” Joe answered truthfully, “Sam knows you’re hurting and wants to help but he’ll let you have your way.”

“You make me sound like a little child,” Dean said and Joe could tell that this young man was getting angrier by the moment, he could tell by his posture, his tone of voice, his words. “I’m not a little kid that needs to be coddled.”

“No you’re not Dean. You’re a grown man whose coping mechanisms are lagging behind after an extremely traumatizing event.” Joe said, sitting up straighter and leaning over the table. “Like I told you before Dean, it’s too early for me to be any good at my job. But I can still listen and I can tell you all the possibilities that could happen if you head down this road.”

“There’s nothing to listen to,” Dean said softly. “And no one can get that, everyone just keeps on telling me how I need to talk about the damned thing, but there is nothing to talk about.”

“I know you watched your father kill himself Dean,” Joe said softly, looking Dean in the eye. “I know it was some case gone wrong and somehow it ended in you watching that, I think there’s plenty to talk about and I could pull out my list of questions to ask to prove you that there is.”

“It wasn’t just some case,” Dean growled, “it was us finally finding the bastard that killed my mother and that going south. It was my fucking father, my dad having to tear into me even though there were fucking tears in his eyes, and then him killing himself.”

“I didn’t mean to make it out that way,” Joe apologized softly but Dean shook his head, his anger still cursing through him.

“Of course you didn’t,” Dean hissed. “You didn’t know that he looked me straight in the eye when he did it, so don’t think you know how to fucking fix me!”

“You’re not broken Dean,” Joe said, holding Dean’s stare. “That’s what everyone wants to help you with, to realize that you’re not broken and none of it was your fault.”

Dean just snorted, pushing himself up from the table and shaking his head. “Guess that shows how much you all know then,” he said before leaving the kitchen.

-

“I’m not an invalid,” Dean growled as he grabbed his bag from Sam, slamming it over his shoulder before heading out the door, leaving Sam to stare at the closed door, Jess standing beside him.

“I talked to him earlier this morning,” Joe explained and Sam nodded because that would be an excuse for Dean to be in the pissy mood that he was in.

“Sorry about this,” Sam mumbled softly.

-

Sam woke up to the sound of somebody being sick in the bathroom, he sighed softly, scrubbing his face and sitting up slowly, always careful not to wake Jess up. “Dean?” he asked softly as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at his brother bent over the toilet.

“Leave me alone Sam,” his brother grunted, not lifting his head from the rim yet.

“Are you sick?” Sam asked instead and when Dean shook his head slightly he moved to go sit on the edge of the tub, his hand resting on Dean’s back. “Nightmare?”

“Memory,” Dean mumbled after a moment, sitting up and shaking Sam’s hand off of his back before it had a chance to start rubbing circles.

“Sometimes they’re the same,” Sam mumbled, keeping out of his brother’s space only enough so that Dean didn’t realize that he was still in it.

“Yeah… yeah sometimes they are.” Dean agreed tiredly. “I woke you again, didn’t I?”

“I was trying to steal some blankets back from Jess when I heard you,” Sam lied but he had a small smile on his face and Dean believed him. “She’s always taking them all… kind of like you were. A big blanket hog.”

“I was never a blanket hog,” Dean argued as he pushed himself up into a standing position.

“Dean… for the first nine years of my life I didn’t know what a blanket was.” Sam dead panned, watching his brother rinse his mouth out and rub some water over his face.

“That’s because you insisted on calling them Buhbies.” Dean continued, “Not because I stole them from you.”

“I was five Dean…”

“And you made every waitress coo and swoon when you showed her your ‘buhby’.”

Sam sighed and shook his head, but he stood up when Dean turned around. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not in the mood Sam,” Dean answered instantly.

“Want a beer then and we’ll talk about baseball?” because Sam wasn’t going to let this go anymore. It was going on too long and the both of them were getting too little sleep as a result. He couldn’t let it go on any longer, he had exhausted every other way he knew to try and help Dean, but none of them had worked too well in the first place so it was back to method one.

“I really don’t want to talk about it Sam,” Dean repeated, turning around to look at his brother.

Sam just stood up and walked around Dean, knowing that his brother would follow him because Dean wasn’t willing to go lay back down yet and there was no where else to go.

Five minutes later when Dean had finally made it into the living room Sam was sitting on the couch, TV off and a beer in hand. Dean sighed in response at the sight but flopped down on the other end of the couch, holding his hand out for the other beer. “I’m leaving Friday.” Dean finally said after a minute. “There’s a hunt down in Arkansas, a spirit pops up every three years and nabs women between 25 and thirty. Gonna salt and burn the bones on Sunday.”

Sam sighed but nodded his head, he had known it wouldn’t be much longer before Dean left and he also knew that he couldn’t stop Dean now. “What kind of spirit?”

“Tragic tale about this one,” Dean said with a hard snort. “It’s a three year old baby who got sacrificed by his mother, according to Jim something with the ritual went wrong and the demon’s rage kind of mixed with the kid’s spirit.”

Sam nodded, chewing on his lip, “do you need any backup?”

“I know you don’t really want to come, Sam,” Dean pointed out, taking a gulp of the beer in his hand. “I don’t need backup; it’s a simple salt and burn.”

“What if it’s not?”

“Then I call up Jim, tell him he was wrong and figure it out before Wednesday.” Dean answered easily. “I can handle myself Sam. I told you I was hunting on my own for awhile.”

“Yeah, but then you weren’t making yourself sick by not sleeping,” Sam pointed out.

“No, I was doing it other ways,” Dean nearly growled before taking a deep breath. “I got it handled Sam stop worrying so much. I’m fine; I’m not going to go throw myself off of some bridge because I’m having a little trouble getting over dad’s death.”

Sam’s only thought right then was that at least he was admitting that he was having trouble with something. “It’s not only Dad’s death though, is it?” he asked softly, “it’s everything about it. Whatever that Demon said and did to you, Dad leaving you alone permanently, me leaving for college? It’s all of it built on top of one another and now it’s too much.”

Dean just stared at Sam, eyebrows raised and a sarcastic smirk growing on his face until Sam gave Dean that look he’d showed so often through their childhood. Then Dean was sighing and looking down at the beer bottle. “It was about… when Dad was possessed. They’re always about then… It was saying some shit through Dad, you know how demons do Sam, and then it cuts me up without even touching me… Does a lot of shit without even touching me… then just when it’s about to kill me, somehow Dad gets control of himself back and Bam he does himself in”

And Sam knew that was as much as he was ever going to know about that night and Dean’s shoulders were shaking but he didn’t move to touch his brother, just handed Dean the rest of his beer. Kind of showing Dean that he got it in their own kind of fucked up way.


End file.
